


Blood and Iron

by LandBeyondtheForest



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandBeyondtheForest/pseuds/LandBeyondtheForest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Light Elves are a race with little heart for war, but many enemies.  One considers making a political marriage to ensure peace.  Ronan/Female OC/Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Iron

Chapter 1 – A Kind of Dancing

* * *

  
Earth Reckoning AD 1769  
Aboard a Kree Warship

* * *

 

“Attack me,” commanded the Accuser in a low tone.

  
His voice made her think of warm sand. The darkness of night. It refused to be ignored. The man was like a big cat. At times poised but his body ever straining with the promise of violence.

  
She observed him as they circled each other slowly. He stood in a wide stance so that he looked like a letter A, or perhaps a mountain, body hewn from stone. She knew from other times they had sparred that he lacked the smooth grace of her kinsmen but not their strength. His movements were decisive and effortless. Powerful. Perhaps she did not have much chance against him in this weaponless match. She had learned he was quite a bit stronger than her. But also not so fast or so durable.

  
“Now, Idril,” he pressed.

  
“Your playfulness ever disarms me,” she said. He simply stalked her impassively. Ever the Kree. No sense of humor. She held his unflinching gaze. “I bet you’re a fair card-player,” she tried again.

  
“Shut your mouth and make your move,” he growled. “Clever words will not win a martial contest.”

  
“You find me clever?”

  
She must have irritated him because he charged at her. But she was right. He required time to move his mass and she whirled easily out of his path. For minutes afterward he pursued her but whenever his fierce hands came too close, seeking to ensnare or strike, she managed to slip away.

  
“Stop dancing and fight!” he roared finally.

  
“I am very fond of dancing,” she said without insolence. “And it’s not really so far divorced from fighting.”

  
“If Kree warriors believed that then they would be as useless as elf warriors,” he barked. She grinned. And then with a fleet-footed gesture swiftly rushed him and landed a kick to his middle. It stung her ankle a little and moved him only a short distance.

  
“A warrior should know how to move her body,” she said. In answer he only moved to grab her and she dodged, stepping quickly in circles around him until her head snapped sharply backward when Ronan seized the tail of her loose hair and pulled.

  
“You should cut this off,” he said victoriously. “I would think that a warrior of your standing—“

  
His smug words were quickly interrupted when, in a display of Elven agility, she swung one leg around to lock over his offending arm and with the momentum of that movement used the heel of her hand to shove hard against the side of his face. He lurched backward, she tripped him, and in a moment he was on the ground with her crouched on his chest.

  
“You like the sound of your own voice,” she said with a light smile that seemed to irk him. Perched now so close to his face she could see his eyes more clearly. Their bright violet was unknown in the race of elves. “Your eyes are striking,” she said frankly.

  
He glared at her for a moment and then grabbed her around the waist and easily threw her off him.

  
“I told you to be serious, you light-mind,” he said irritably and moved toward where she had landed, unfortunately rather indelicately, on the ground.

  
“I am,” she said and hauled herself up swiftly but not before his hands locked onto her shoulders and shoved her backwards into the wall. In a moment his broad form engulfed her when he roughly pressed himself thigh to chest into her front, hands coming to rest surely on either side of her head on the wall, trapping her. She quickly gripped his shoulders for leverage and tried to buck him off but braced as he was the man was unyielding. This is what she had feared and how he usually bested her. The corners of his mouth rose slightly in the closest thing to a smile she ever saw from him. Strangely, it was more unsettling than his perpetual glower.

  
“Say you concede,” he rumbled. His eyes stared at her mouth, then at her eyes and then again at her mouth. His heavy breath brushed her face.

  
“I concede,” she said simply. The small expression of his victory disappeared and instead he looked at her with eyes narrowed in disdain. Or was it disappointment? Slowly he eased backward and she slipped out from beneath him.

  
“I must away,” she said.

  
“To where?” he asked.

  
“Asgard,” she replied, walking away.

  
“You neglected to mention this earlier,” he said, following her. He hadn’t asked why she had declined to tell; he had pronounced his words like an accusation.

  
“I do not ask you about your office. My business is mine,” she said.

  
“I do not believe that you have dealings with Odin’s weakling son on orders from your king,” he argued and stepped in her way.

  
“You know little of my orders,” she said, walking around him and continuing to the door. She felt his eyes on her from behind.

  
“I do favor Loki,” she called back. “He dances with me.”

  
She did not turn around to address Ronan’s quick hiss of derision.

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings apply...yet. I guess this is an aperitif.  
> This piece might not unfold completely chronologically since I have not totally settled the plot but still want to write something down.  
> There isn't much to know about Light Elves so I'm basing them on Tolkien with some deviations.


End file.
